Show Me How You Feel About Me
by Entwife Incognito
Summary: Lisbon needed to know something from Jane. Her instincts and her reason told her that a real conversation was the right thing to do, both personally and professionally. But how, when Jane wanted to avoid it at all costs? Another 5x22 episode tag. Different, but sweet, I think. Try it! Rated a gentle "T" for sexual situations. DISCLAIMER: I own nothing about The Mentalist.


The night seemed hushed, waiting as Teresa Lisbon was waiting. The team's case was finally concluded. Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt had left the scene together to make their way home for the night. Lisbon had something on her mind, something she needed to say to Patrick Jane, and now was as good a time as any. She'd thought it over for days. Her instincts and her reason told her that talking about it was the right thing to do, both personally and professionally. The question in her mind had been how to honor Patrick's clear position not to have the conversation while meeting her own conviction that they must have it. Lisbon realized that the tactic she had settled on might be clumsy and awkward, but what conversation on the subject would not be? Time to get out the hammer and crack the puzzle box open! She would try to cover the hammer with velvet. She took a long slow breath.

"Jane."

"Mmmmph?" Patrick Jane was looking out the passenger window where he had been quiet for a long while now. He could tell there was something important on Lisbon's mind and she was finally making a start on it.

"Do you trust me?"

Now she had his attention! His quizzical look was a reward for her delicate opening.

"Yes, Lisbon. I trust you. We're partners. Remember?"

Teresa Lisbon could not forget their partnership, hard won. But she needed to call up Patrick's trust before she continued. Where she planned to take them was very risky territory. The other day, she'd told Patrick, "I can't continue to work like this."

He'd cut her off by rushing a great gift into her hands. "I admit, I am secretive and controlling". And he'd actually made an overture of change right then and there, telling her a name from his suspect list of seven. He cut her off in order to admit he was controlling and would change. He just couldn't help himself. A smile played at her lips, but disappeared quickly. Patrick didn't want their feelings for each other to be in the open between them. Pretend they don't exist, they won't cause trouble.

No. If their feelings were so obvious that first Lorelei and then Sean Barlow, aka the bad guys, could see and use them as a weapon, then it was foolish not to clear the air between them, no matter how uncomfortable it made them feel. A false reality was a danger between them, a lie. Well, Patrick could take control of his own feelings. But she had to take control of hers. Lisbon gauged the night. Calm and inviting. On another evening she would be enticed out for a walk. Not tonight. Why did these things always seem to take place in the car?

"I'm going to go first now, Patrick."

Patrick Jane froze at her reference. Teresa was picking up the conversation he had barely managed to stop a few days ago. He had felt sure then that she was about to confess her feelings for him. Revealing that Gale Bertram, her boss, was on his suspect list had completely distracted her. And after seeing Lorelei's DVD with Red John's message, Teresa had to know that any feelings they acted on for one another would draw Red John. Once those feelings lived in the world between he and Lisbon, would either of them be able to delay acting on them? The serial killer would not be after Patrick. No. Red John's goal would be to torment Patrick for eternity by killing Lisbon. They couldn't have this conversation!

"Teresa. You-."

"It's okay, Patrick. You trust me. Remember?" She had no intention of making him talk about something that generated such fear in him.

Patrick tensed and backed himself into the corner of his seat and the door, slouching into its curve. His mouth was a grim line set in his pale face, but he looked into Teresa's eyes and nodded.

Teresa held out her hand to him, palm down. Patrick sat bolt upright and stared at it, so pale and graceful in the dusky night.

"Take it."

Patrick looked at her. Teresa's resolve almost gave way as she watched him. Like a child, the tragedy of his past and his fear of the future was naked on his face. He wasn't hiding from her. It was so hard to make him uncomfortable. But this was for her, too. It had to be done, and this was the way she had chosen as the gentlest. "Take my hand, Patrick."

His teeth fretted his lower lip and he averted his gaze.

"Please. Trust me."

"Okay, Teresa." Patrick slowly raised his hand and rested the flat of his fingers against hers. He chuffed in surprise but did not remove his hand. The warmth of their fingers together felt like living plasma that if allowed to work its way would make one hand of the two.

"I'm going to ask you to do something. It may sound strange, but it's important. Do you still trust me?"

Patrick nodded, astounded at the power of the woman in front of him. Not because his hand felt like new life when he touched hers, but because she had him completely in her thrall. And he knew, trusted, that the outcome would be good.

"I have feelings for you, Patrick." She was calm. "Shhhhh." Teresa tilted her chin slightly up to emphasize her barely breathed hush to him, that he did not have to speak.

For a moment, it looked like his fear would overtake Patrick, but he mastered it to listen to her and did not drop his hand as Teresa continued.

"I know you already know this. Hell, Lorelei knew it. Sean Barlow knows it. It's dangerous to us if our adversaries openly flaunt knowledge that we deny. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Patrick lowered his head a little, nodding. He gave a tiny shrug of assent. He knew from his own internal arguments that hers was one valid way to view their situation. "Yeah. Yes. I understand, Teresa."

"I'm not asking you to talk about this openly. I know that's too hard for you. I'm not asking you to say anything. But we have to know this about one another. It's important."

Patrick looked up at her. Teresa had woven a mystery that he was unable to penetrate, but he felt a part of its living cloth. What was she doing? He nodded again.

"Use my hand."

Patrick looked at her quizzically.

"Use my hand, Patrick. I know you feel it's too risky to talk about it or act, so you'll have to show me. Show me with my hand how you feel about me. I'll understand you."

In the first giddy moment, Patrick was 14 again with an impulse to place her hand over the zipper of his trousers and allow her to know what she could do to him, watch her face as she felt his desire for her grow. Looking at Teresa's face now as she arched her eyebrow at him, sure she knew just what he was thinking, he realized that was not enough. It was not what she was asking. He smiled to himself, at least not all she was asking. Patrick suddenly became tired of thinking. He was glad Teresa was not pressing him for words. In this arena, words made him very afraid. But he would try to show her.

Hooking her fingers over his, Patrick brought Teresa's hand a little closer, looking at it and not at her face. He brushed her small fingers with his thumb, then brought his other hand palm up and laid hers on it. Her wrist was so petite and just out of its cast. So gently, he feathered his fingers across it, feeling the little bones there, and running his fingertips up and down the top of her hand. He wrapped his hand lightly around her wrist, resting the flat of his fingers against the underside to feel her pulse throbbing there.

Teresa watched her partner quietly. She did not try to stem her breathing or slow her pulse, only let them flow through her so that she could concentrate on Patrick.

He turned her hand gently palm up, again using his fingertips to play along the surface and trace down the length of her fingers. So small and delicate, compared to his, but he knew much strength resided in them. Slowly, Patrick lifted her hand. He leaned over and pressed his lips into the center of her palm, making the tiniest sucking noise when he pulled his lips away. Warming to this way of expressing himself, Patrick kissed her wrist, so soft, the veins so delicate. Then he kissed the ends of her fingers, sucking each tip lightly in turn.

Curious about Teresa's reaction, he shifted his gaze to her face. She was flushed and her lips were parted, eyelids a little droopy. But she was calm, determined to "hear" him out.

This time when Patrick brought his lips to Teresa's hand, he wrapped his own around it, curling it into a little fist and holding it gently with both hands. He kissed the top and then mouthed the flesh between her thumb and forefinger, scraping it gently with his teeth and sucking it thoroughly. When he drove his tongue into the circle her fist made there, Teresa jumped a little and took a sharp breath. She recovered immediately and did not interrupt him or even try to pull away. He licked the little hole of her fist, kissing the fleshy part once more, then carefully released her hand back to her.

Patrick looked at her, his eyes smoldering. His voice croaked as he spoke softly. "That's how I feel about you, Teresa."

Teresa nodded, then smiled at him. "We have the same feelings for each other, I think."

"Yes. I'm glad we had this little talk."

"Uh-hunh. We'd better go now." After a minute of thinking over what had just happened, Teresa said with venom, "We need to get that twisted bastard, Red John."

Patrick smiled and nodded, but his eyes were sad, thinking of the dangerous hunt ahead of them. "We will."


End file.
